


Abigail and Harold Accidentally Go To Brooklyn

by secretsofluftnarp (luftie)



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Gen, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, chosen family, comedic timing, racist/homophobic parental figures, squad goals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 02:33:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11796606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luftie/pseuds/secretsofluftnarp
Summary: “So,” Terry said, taking a seat across the interrogation room table, “this isn’t an interrogation. But Terry has to ask: why you gotta be like this?”Based on the prompt "Kevin's parents come to the 99" fromthis postby annievh on tumblr.beta-ing and significant dialogue assistance by the ever-wonderfullalalalalawhy.





	Abigail and Harold Accidentally Go To Brooklyn

“And then Harold here took us on the wrong train, so then we were in Brooklyn --”  
  
Amy Santiago didn’t really appreciate the way the elderly woman shuddered when she said _Brooklyn_ . But that was tourists for you, right? This older couple had come into the city to see the sights, the woman had gotten her purse stolen, and then she'd come in to report it. Total run-of-the-mill stuff, right? Then why did they look so familiar?   
  
Amy looked down at the blank spots on her incident report. “I’m sorry, could I have your names again?”   
  
“Harold and Abigail Cozner.”   
  
Oh, Cozner! Like Holt's husband Kevin. Wait. That was why they looked familiar. They were the right age to be Kevin’s parents, and Amy could definitely see some family resemblance. She started to beam. “Oh, are you --”   
  
Amy glanced up to see Jake, who was passing by behind the couple, rapidly making the ‘cut it out’ gesture at his neck. Something about not bringing up Kevin. Amy wasn’t sure why, but she tended to trust that look.   
  
Amy smiled weakly. “Keep talking, everything’s fine!”   
  
“We wouldn’t be here if everything were fine,” Mrs. Cozner corrected.   
  
Amy reluctantly appreciated Mrs. Cozner’s schoolteacher-esque straightforwardness. She could see Jake gesturing to Gina, mouthing some words, jerking his thumb back toward Amy’s desk, motioning with his head toward Holt’s office, until Gina got up and went in.

 

“Heyyyyy,” Gina said, as she crept into Holt’s office and shut the door. “So Cap, you gotta trust me on this, but you don’t wanna come out of your office right now.”

Holt leaned back in his chair and put a finger to his lips, in thought. “I was not planning on leaving my office,” Holt said. “In fact, I was not thinking about doing so until you suggested that I should not. Now I question whether there are perhaps some _monkeyshines_ the Nine-Nine is getting up to in my relative absence?”   
  
“Ugh, totes see where you’re coming from, Cap, but it’s not that --”   
  
“In fact, considering the sheer number of times Peralta has, for instance, created a foolish challenge which has dissolved the precinct into disarray --” he was getting up. Gina shuffled in front of the door, attempting to delay a little longer.

  


Meanwhile, Amy was trying to deflect the sense that she was the one being interrogated. “Marty Cozner is my dentist,” she finally offered, by way of explanation. “He’s pretty great. All up in them gums, you know?” Amy knew she was smiling too much. Awkward.  
  
Boyle, who had been in the break room making a complicated espresso, walked carefully back to his desk with his miniature cup of coffee. “Oh, yeah, Kevin’s brother is a great dentist,” Boyle said, without looking up.   
  
The Cozners looked suspicious. _What was this about Kevin?_ they said, with their eyebrows.   
  
Before Amy could stall further, the door to Holt’s office opened. Holt took three steps and stopped.   
  
“Gina,” he said, “I apologize. You were correct. I should not have left my office.”

The precinct was never quiet, but it was quiet right now. Those present looked back and forth between the Cozners and Holt, waiting.

 _Ding!_ went the elevator. Kevin stepped out.   
  
Kevin looked at Holt, then the couple at Amy's desk, in a subtle but clear display of bewilderment and shock. "Mother, Father --" He looked at Holt again, brows furrowed in confusion. "What is happening?"

“Ah!” Holt said. “I have...an excuse to leave. I am having lunch. With my _husband_ .”   
  
“Raymond," Kevin said, quietly over-enunciating. "I seem to have just encountered my parents at the police station. I ought to see if they’re all right.”  
  
Kevin faced his parents, and spoke very deliberately. "Are you all right?"

Kevin and Abigail locked eyes for a moment. They were both clearly battling between having a very strong emotion, and the social taboo of admitting to such a thing in public.

Then Mrs. Cozner began to cry. She wailed, suddenly and loudly, and pushed Kevin aside. Kevin looked stunned.  
  
Harold Cozner looked deeply uncomfortable with this as well. "See what you made your mother do," he said, to Kevin..   
  
"What _I_ did?" Kevin sputtered.   
  
“Report, Santiago?” Holt shouted, over the noise of Abigail Cozner's continued wailing.   
  
Amy explained that the Cozners hadn’t actually finished giving their statement, but gave Holt the summary of the incident so far.   
  
“Clearly Santiago has this under control,” Holt told Kevin, taking him back out of the precinct by the crook of the arm. Amy, slightly shaken, tried not to be inappropriately flattered.   
  


"I heard the weather this afternoon will be uncharacteristically steady," Holt said, a little louder than usual, as he and Kevin walked briskly along the street. "I am excited about the antique barometer we recently displayed in our home, which will undoubtedly confirm these results."

"I do enjoy your interest in vintage meteorological instruments," Kevin said, distracted.  
  
"You seem distracted," Holt said.   
  
"You know this," Kevin said, "but while I can nearly stomach the profound misunderstanding my parents display towards me, I cannot abide the ways in which they've disrespected you."   
  
"I know this," Holt said, "and I believe that our established policy of non-engagement is the correct one."  
  
Kevin nodded, and he kept walking. A patch of familiar color caught Kevin's eye. Stuffed between the drainpipe and brick wall of a building was a discarded pocketbook. "Raymond, we have to stop, my mother's --"

Holt stopped walking. "I thought you were respecting our policy of non-engagement."  
  
“No, Raymond." Kevin gestured. "That’s my mother’s purse.”   
  
“You haven’t seen her recently. You’re certain that’s the one?”   
  
“Yes. Her tastes are frightfully consistent.”

Holt sighed. “I _suppose_ we’re going to do the right thing.”

Kevin took a pen from his coat pocket. 

"What are you doing?"  
  
Kevin hooked the metal clip of the pen into the strap of the purse and fished it out of the mailbox, not letting it touch his fingers. "Attempting not to tamper with the evidence."  
  
"A man after my own heart."   
  
Kevin smiled thinly, and touched Raymond on the shoulder. "I know."  
  
  
  
Amy’s phone rang. It was Holt, could they keep the Cozners at the precinct? The purse had been found, with cash missing, but other materials intact.   
  
“Okay, sir,” Amy said. “But could it be quick? They are freaking out the hardened criminals.”   
  
Mrs. Cozner’s wailing had become so disruptive that Terry and Jake had taken them into the interrogation room.   
  
“So,” Terry said, taking a seat across the interrogation room table, “this isn’t an interrogation. But Terry has to ask: why you gotta be like this?”

Abigail Cozner began to speak, through ugly sniffling. "It's just... when your little boy doesn't grow up... exactly how you envisioned him to turn out..."   
  
Jake opened his mouth to protest. Terry gave Jake a little wave, to say _hold on, I got this_.

"Well, my kids are all girls under ten, so I can't relate," Terry said.   
  
"Well, just imagine," Abigail continued,"if one of them were to, you know, enjoy softball a little more than you think she should..."   
  
"Oh I'll always encourage my girls to play sports," Terry said, cheerfully. "So long as the competitive atmosphere isn't too intense, it can be a very fulfilling experience! You might be surprised, but I played football in high school."  
  
"What if she --" Abigail paused for emphasis, "enjoys sleepovers too much?"   
  
"Well, then we'd have to impose some rules about school nights."

"What if she really loves motorcycles," Harold Cozner interjected, raising an eyebrow.   
  
"You do have a good point there. Motorcycles are death machines!" Terry said, but paused to think. "But if she was safe about it, got a good helmet and proper gear, took the course and got her license, I don't know there's much I could do to stop her."  
  
"What if she wears a lot of flannel," Abigail said, whispering the last word as though it were a secret.   
  
"Oh, I'll always encourage my girls to express themselves with fashion."

Harold Cozner sighed. "What if she brings her roommate home from college and introduces her as her girlfriend?"   
  
"Oh, is that what this whole rigmarole was about?" Terry said, faking innocence but clearly exasperated. "I thought any parent would understand how much I love my girls completely, no matter who they love."

Jake grinned, started to hide it, and then didn't bother.  
  


A few minutes later, Terry addressed the squad in a huddle just beyond earshot of the interrogation room. "So then they insinuated some stuff about Obama, and I was outta there," Terry explained. "Boyle -- you go guard Jake."  
  
  
Jake noticed that the Cozners looked relieved when Terry left.   
  
"So," Jake said. "While we're hangin' here, waiting for Holt to show up with your stuff -- and he is, incidentally, one of the greatest people I've ever met --"   
  
"Oh you have to understand," Harold Cozner said. "It can be difficult to trust --" He nodded toward the space where Terry left.   
  
"You find it difficult to trust...police captains?" Jake squeaked.

Boyle sidled in next to Jake.

"Oh, hi Charles," Jake said. "Mr. and Mrs. Cozner here were just telling me how they don't trust...police captains."  
  
"Ah, a lot of people are nervous around cops," Boyle said, oblivious. "But we got a great boss."   
  
"I don't think you do," Abigail said darkly. "I think --"  
  


Barely a minute later, Boyle steered Jake back to the huddle, hyperventilating with the effort. "Had to get him out of there," Boyle panted. "Didn't want it to become another Jimmy Brogan situation. You know, where Jake punched his childhood hero," Boyle paused to pant again, "for being homophobic?"

Jake was aghast. "Charles! You thought I was going to punch an old lady?" He paused. "Okay, I was maybe going to punch an old lady."   
  
Boyle waved Rosa and Gina toward the interrogation room. "You two! Good cop/bad cop!"   
  
"Uh, Charles?" Gina said. "Both of us are the bad cop."   
  
"Right," Boyle said. "Okay, bad cop/crazy cop! Go!"   
  
Rosa and Gina were in the interrogation room for about two minutes, before a crash was heard. "Down, girl!" Gina yelped, pulling Rosa out of the room in a surprisingly deft restraining hold.   
  
"Gina! Rosa!" Terry hissed. "What happened?"   
  
"Buncha racist windbags," Rosa muttered.   
  
Terry took a moment. "We know."  
  
"Yeah," said Gina. "And damn, they were obsessed with making Mon Capitan the villain in this sitch! We're all like 'Holt's a great person, what is your deal,' and they kept finding weird reasons why our opinion didn't count, like --" Gina mimed pushing a pair of glasses up her nose, and made her voice sound snooty. "'Harold, they're lesbians.'"   
  
"Ha!" Jake blurted. "I mean, that's not funny. I mean, it's kinda funny, but only because you two aren't a thing --"   
  
Gina and Rosa gave Jake a death glare. Rosa's was particularly death-ly.   
  
"Oh god, you _are_ a thing!" Jake fake-whispered. "Please don't hurt me."

"There's nobody guarding the Cozners," Terry said, cutting Jake off. "Amy! Your turn."  
  
"No," Amy said, her mouth taught with barely contained rage. "I'm not going."   
  
"God, I'm so attracted to you when you're shaking with righteous anger," Jake said, in his very audible whisper. "Sorry. I mean, come on, Ames! We all gave it a shot."   
  
"No," Amy said again, firmly. "I mean we're going all in. Time for the real deal. The Big Kahuna."   
  
Jake and Charles gasped. "You don't mean -- " Jake started.   
  
Amy paused dramatically. "I do."   
  
"Name's Norm Scully," Scully said affably, taking a seat in the interrogation room and extending a very clammy hand. "Pleased to meetcha. You guys have toenail fungus? I've got a bunch. Here, lemme show ya."   
  


When Holt and Kevin re-emerged from the elevator, the Cozners were emerging from the interrogation room, looking pale and shell-shocked.  
  
"Nice folks," Scully said, still cheery. "Don't talk much, though."   
  
Amy thought she saw the barest glimmer of a smile on Holt's face, as he deduced what had transpired. The Cozners took seats, and waited for someone else to speak.   
  
"Mom --" Kevin started. He hadn't meant to speak informally, but the strangeness of the situation had gotten to him.

Abigail Cozner began wailing again, possibly even louder than before.

Kevin's shoulders dropped. He held out the purse and Abigail snatched it back, defensively, snottily. Harold Cozner handed her a handkerchief.  
  
The squad watched in silence as Holt calmly got down to the Cozner's eye level. He made strong eye contact. He looked as though he was about to say something meaningful. Profound, even.   
  
"Please leave," Holt said. "You continue to be very disruptive."   
  
Kevin, standing next to Holt, just nodded slightly.   
  
Harold and Abigail begrudgingly got up from their seats. Abigail somehow managed to ignore Holt entirely, despite him being right in front of her. "You could always come home, you know," she said, clearly only speaking to Kevin.   
  
"I’m very willing, Mother, but my conditions have not changed," Kevin said. "I will go home when my _husband_ can come too."   
  
Abigail made a dismissive noise in Kevin's general direction, and got into the elevator with Harold.   
  
_Mega-bummer_ , Gina mouthed silently. The squad exchanged mega-bummed-out looks.  
  
"Thank you for containing the disruption," Holt said. "Thank you Sergeant Jeffords," he nodded. "Thank you Scully," he said, almost smiling again, and then looking directly from  Scully to Amy, properly deducing what she'd done. "Good job, Santiago."

Amy barely contained a squeal.

"God, I'm so attracted to you when you're inappropriately flustered by our boss," Jake said. "There's probably levels to that, huh."

"Kevin!" Boyle said, noticing that Kevin was still standing around looking disoriented. "I have a top-of-the-line espresso maker that I'm trying out, if you would like to sample."

Kevin seemed focused on something far away, but he took the seat next to Boyle's desk when it was offered. "Yes, Charles, the espresso sounds lovely."

"Yo, you guys didn't actually get lunch," Rosa deadpanned. "We're ordering in. I'll cover."  
  
Boyle started to make a suggestion. "We could order from the --"   
  
"Nope!" Rosa said. "You're gonna do something gross. I'm ordering sandwiches. It'll be boring. Because boring is cool now. Kevin and Holt made boring cool."   
  
"Gah, I did not realize Rosa could just declare things cool now!" Boyle said. "And it works so well!"   
  
"Learned from the best," Gina said dryly, tapping away at her phone without looking up.   
  
"I'm gonna --" Jake started, looked around for something extra cool to do for Holt and Kevin, and noticed that Holt still looked super serious. "I'm gonna actually do my job now, like the Captain would actually want me to."

Kevin looked at his phone. "Gina," he said, quietly astonished, but clearly pleased. He found himself looking at a sweet, if slang-ridden, new group text.

"You called Raymond and I 'totes rad,'" Kevin said, effortfully enunciating the unfamiliar words. "Raymond is probably furious."

"Worth it," Gina sang.

Gina had, obviously, included the perfect balance of emoji in her 'Captain Holt and Dr. Cozner are the best!!!' message, the right number of likenesses of smiling people, and only the most tasteful of rainbow emoji.

"Obviously I don't approve," Holt said. "But I do appreciate the thought."  
  
  
  
That evening, Holt and Kevin took Cheddar for his walk together. They paused by a bench in a grassy patch of park. It was one of Cheddar's favorite spots to sniff around, because he was a dog, and had simple preferences.   
  
Holt inquired about Kevin's thoughts, without assigning them a monetary value.

"I was thinking about earlier today," Kevin said. "So many colleagues of ours have been so kind. It only emphasizes how hateful my parents are."

"You know," Raymond said, matter-of-factly, "I could never hate your parents."

"Really," Kevin said. "Even after the incident of '98, after which we agreed to never see them again?"

"Well," said Raymond, with a slight pained expression as he recalled the incident of late September 1998. "I do maintain the position that, as discussed earlier today, our position of no contact is best. I find your parents spiteful, vindictive, and mean. I believe we would add little to no value to their lives, and we are better off for removing them from ours. They have poor ethics, corrupt values, and worse judgement."

Kevin had, over time, come to agree with this, though it had been difficult at first.

"But," Holt continued, "I could never hate them."

"No?" asked Kevin. "I find hate to be a fairly accurate summation of my personal feelings."

"That's logical. You do not owe them the debt of gratitude I do."

"What?" Kevin's brow knotted together.

"Whatever their faults," Raymond said, "they created you."

Kevin caught his breath, ever so slightly.   
  
"And for that, I could never hate them. Do I find them contemptible? Absolutely. But I don't hate them."

Kevin looked lovingly at his husband, grateful, as he always was, for Raymond's steadfast presence.

"Cheddar!" Raymond shouted suddenly. "Don't roll in that."  
  
Cheddar obliged, because he was fairly good at following directions.

Kevin put his hand in Raymond's arm. "Let us go home, drink some nice wine...I'm thinking the Bordeaux but I could be swayed to try the new Oregon Pinot, if you were feeling naughty...and continue never talking or thinking about my parents ever again."

"That sounds wonderful," said Raymond. "And, in case you were wondering, I _am_ considering the Pinot."

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> nerd-husbands.tumblr.com


End file.
